What history forgot
by Kitten1313
Summary: A series of oneshots. History isn't always remembered but it doesn't mean the nations forget as well. Especially since they were there when it happened. Based on historical events and facts. (Warning: history is not always pretty so will or could include drug use, murder, and acts of genocide and war crimes)
1. A little game America

How did he manage to get himself in here? America wonders as he looks up and down the barb wire fences. There are at least ten guards and he's too far into the German country side to make a mad run for it. No he has to be smart if he's going to get out. "Captain?" He hears and it takes him away from his thoughts for a moment.

"Yes private?" America answers turning to the twenty year old beside him.

The kid looks around carefully before whispering, "Do you have a plan? Cause I don't want to stay here…I hear what the enemy does to us…."

"Well they treat us better than the Japs do." He answers instantly. Among these men he's not a nation but just another military man. "Especially since they let out…" It's then that the thought enters his mind and really he's not sure why he didn't think of it before. "Letters…"

"Sir?"

America just shakes his head, "Nothing but why don't you write home to your folks? I'm sure they'd want to hear that at least you're safe." When the human nods America walks off towards his cot to write his own letter.

It's a simple letter and just says where he is and what the date is. Though he's sure England would want to know more really there's not much more he wants to tell his ex-brother. All he really asking for is a simple game of Monopoly anyway.

Within a week it arrives and the moment he scans it over he smiles. "Captain is it really that impressive?"

"Impressive? Not really but leave it to that brother of mine to send me his version of the game." America says with a soft sigh as he turns away, "But come Private we have a game to play."

The human follows slightly confused, "Captain have you finally lost your mind?"

"Me? Now when was the last time I fucked with you?" After a second he shakes his hand, "Don't answer that but anyway did you tell your folks you were okay like I told yah to?"

When his Private nods he pulls out his knife, "Good." He answers, "Now make sure no one is coming while I um…play with my game." Quickly he opens the game again; he knows it's a special game by the red dot on the Free Parking. Other than that it looks like the three others around the camp, expect for one thing of course.

His nimble fingers easily pulls out the real money hiding between the play money and set them aside before going back to the board. With his knife he makes a small tear and pulls away the game to reveal a silk map of the area, a compass, file and a thin wire cutting saw.

Once he pockets all his new found goodies he breaks up the board into a half dozen pieces, "Yo Private I'm cold what about you?"

The black haired solider nods slightly as he watches his captain throw the wood remains into a small wood burning stove. "But what are we doing?"

America gives him another smile as he walks out into the camp, "Like I said Dude…we're playing a little game and I like to call it," He whispers to the man beside him, "Let's escape before the Germans know what hit them."

Now his private returns his smile, "Oh I love that game."

"I knew you would."


	2. Chernobyl, Russia

**This one is a little request by a guest named Amelia**

Bears are the only visitors to the city anymore. Well can it really be still called a city? Really all it is a memory that's slowly fading away into the woods around it. To a rare human visitor it gives off an eerie feeling, as if constantly being watched from one of the many widows above. Ghosts or perhaps memories watch with unblinking eyes in the deathly silent streets.

Though it could just be the overwhelming dread caused by knowing that the radiation is still leaking from the infamous reactor. It's been leaking since that night.

Russia remembers it all too clearly. He had received the call late that night but instead of bolting out of bed like he wishes he had done he yawned into the phone. "It can wait until morning."

"Wait? Mr. Russia shouldn't we start to evacuate?"

"Evacuate? Why would we do that?" He remembers asking, "We don't want to scare them besides do you know what time it is?"

"Sir, I don't think you understand; it exploded."

Those last words still ring in his ears, "It exploded." But he still waited three days to evacuate Pripyat…took days to tell his sisters why they were feeling so sick. Then the look on their faces, it was a mix of horror and rage.

Even as he walks among the ruins their faces still appear in the cracked windows never letting him forget what happened here. What was once and never will be again and no matter how many sunflowers he wants to plant it can't soak up the mess he helped make.

It was supposed to rival America's Three Mile Island but what it rivaled was what America dropped on Hiroshima.

"I'm sorry…" He says as the wind rushes past him making a few children's swings rattle. "If only they had waited…and I had rushed instead of the other way around…"


	3. Acceptance, Ukraine

I take a deep breath, I belong here I know I do. I'm not like Sealand. I am a nation; I have bled for my people, died a hundred times over through the years. I'm not even sure if little brother understands what he's done to me and while I still love him I know my time to be with him is over. But as I take a hold of the door knob I hesitate.

Fear starts to creep up into my heart as I remember what happened the last time I claimed my independence. It still keeps me up at night remembering the greedy smiles of my fellow nations and their bosses. They wanted my land and while Poland tried we were no match for my brother and the others.

As I close my eyes I can still hear the sounds of war and the cries of my people but soon I feel a hand on mine. "Having doubts?"

"Is it that obvious?" I ask as I turn Poland, "They won't accept me. They still see me as part of my brother."

He shrugs slightly as he takes the other door knob, "Then let them think that but you and I know the truth and really I think that's all that matters." He opens the door before I have a chance to stop him, "Now come on." He says with a hair flip I've come to know all too well.

It brings a soft smile to my face but as I look around the vast room it's hard not to be overwhelmed. Where am I really supposed to sit anyway? As I look around the room I spot a seat next to my brother but as I take a step towards Canada steps forward. "Miss Ukraine," He starts in his normal rather friendly voice. "Would you like to sit next to me?"

"But isn't that where your brother sits?" I ask feeling my face grow hot.

He nods but gently takes my hand, "Yes but I thought that since you just gained your independence you'd rather sit among friends."

As we walk past many that seem to ignore us I speak up, "Friends?" He doesn't have to answer me because next to where I'm going to sit is Poland.

He stands up with his normal smirk and shakes my hand like we've just met, "Congratulations Ukraine."

Tears come to my eyes as I shake his hand, "Thank you Mr. Poland and Mr. Canada." I answer to the two nations, no men that accepted me as a nation. While I'm sure the others will follow in time, I'm forever grateful to the two that welcomed me with open arms.


	4. Agent Orange, Vietnam

The taste is something that still lingers on her tongue even after all these decades. The burns still etch her skin in places she's only let him see. Him, the one that caused all of her pain in the first place but also the one that tried to heal her wounds. Maybe it was out of love but more likely it was out of remorse for what he had done.

"I'm sorry…" He's said countless times in the past, "God I didn't mean to-"

"How much?" She would interrupt not daring to look back at him, "How much did you rain down on my people?"

He's never answered her before but today his voice cracks, "Nineteen million gallons…"

Vietnam's head spins around, she's always known but for him to say it. To hear the actual number from him is almost enough to bring her to her knees, "What? Nineteen…million."

The blue eyed American nods sheepishly, "Enough to drown my smallest state. But-"

"Fuck you." She says as tears flow from her eyes, "Fuck you Joe. Do you know what you've done!? The damage you've caused!? You said you'd help me but all you've done is destroy my people, my land…it will never recover from the…" She stops as her shoulders start to shake, "How many children lost? They weren't soldiers Joe they were babies that didn't have a chance to live."

While she doesn't want to she allows him to embrace her. "Vietnam…" He says quietly as she becomes a trembling leaf in his arms. "Lien." He says in a gentle tone, "I didn't know what they'd do with it or what it would do but I stopped it as soon as I could." He lays his cheek on the top of her head as she buries her head in his chest, "We can try again."

"No." She whispers in a course voice, "I can't. I lost one and I know I'll lose another." She's afraid to let him in, she knows he's trying to clean up the mess but what she's already lost he can't give back.

It takes her a few minutes until a new thought replaces the painful ones, "Why did your boss stop? Was I hurt enough?"

She feels him take a long deep breath before he answers, "Like I said I asked him to stop. My people and I had enough and made him."

"Is that normal then?"

"No." He says quietly as he looks out at the dense forests around them. He remembers them clearly as the same ones he flew across years before. The steam rose off of the green as it burned by the herbicide, the smell stung his nose but what lingers the longest about those eleven years was the site of the rice patties and the young women that filled them. "It's only happened once."

"Was I really that special to you then?" She asks finally able to look up at him.

America can't look down at her but continues to look off into the distance, "You know the answer to that."

She takes his chin and pulls it down so his eyes will meet hers, "Tell me anyway."

"Yeah you were and you still are." She lets him hug her one more time but she'll never let him know that she saw his petition a few years before. It had countless names but there on page two at the very top she read one she recognized. She didn't know the long list of names really meant something but now the nation understands it clearly. Although she'll always have that taste in her mouth her once lover has it as well.

 **A/N: I got a review for Vietnam and instantly this came to mind. Some of these may take longer than others because of the research involved. It didn't start off as a AmeViet but I think it worked for this.**


	5. Radium Girls, FemAmerica

**A/N: Before I do another review I wanted to do this one.**

 _March_

What a strange thing radium is. It's so useful don't you think? It's quite useful really and not just for these neat little watches. Though Alfred does fancy his very much I have found other uses for the Undark I've 'borrowed' from the plant.

Now don't get me wrong, Katelyn Jones normally does not steal but a bottle couldn't hurt could it? I mean look how my lips and nails glow in the dark. Oh how marvelous but poor Toris. How it frightened him so, seeing me glowing in the dark like a little glow worm. Also it didn't really help that I laughed as he fell back on his butt.

He stood up looking annoyed with me but I just winked as I walked past, "It's only the Undark." I said with a chuckle.

"And what is it made out of that it glows green like that?" He asked as he looked me up and down.

I shrugged, "Radium but it's perfectly safe." I said with a smile, "I mean they wouldn't let us touch it if it was bad right?"

"I suppose…" He said with a look of worry but I didn't think too much about it.

I simply walked away because after all I couldn't leave Alfred waiting around for his little surprise now could I?

 _June_

I don't understand why I'm feeling so sick. It's not right since Alfred claims he's perfectly fine. So whatever it is must be just the flu. It makes sense since a few other girls from the plant are home sick too.

Hopefully it passes quickly because I can barely get out of bed. Toris like always is concerned about me but I wish he didn't say anything to Alfred about my hair falling out. It's only a few stands after all and nothing to panic about. But now of course he's off to the plant to ask questions.

I wish they wouldn't embarrass me like this…maybe in a day or two I'll swing by Mary Sue's and see how she's doing.

 _September_

Oh God Mary Sue's dead…she died this morning and all her hair is gone and the doctors say it was cancer of the lung but I don't believe it. No she was perfectly fine than she started getting sicker and sicker. Her bones got so weak that I was afraid that if I touched her hand I would break it.

Alfred took me to the doctor soon after but what he said wasn't right. He dared to say I have syphilis! I tried not to cry telling him that he was mistaken. I'm not a perfect woman but I've never been with anyone else.

He wouldn't waver from his findings even after Alfred picked me up and carried me out. "Bullshit." He said as he gritted his teeth.

"Alfred I swear I don't have it." I said as I cried into his shoulder. "I promise." I was so weak and scared. In fact I still am…I know Alfred can't die but while I'm a nation too he doesn't need me to survive.

"I know." He said once we were in the car and Toris was driving us home, "I'll take you to one of Francis' doctors or Arthur's if I have to."

I sniffled finally able to gain my composer, "Why not one of Matthew's?"

"Because…" He said as he held me close, "They have a few doctors in both our lands but I know their long ass reach doesn't stretch to England." Who they were he wouldn't tell me but I have a feeling it has something to do with the Undark. Because when he thought I was asleep he took the bottle off of my nightstand and smashed it.

 _February_

I've been here for months now and according to Francine I'll be here for a few years to come. She wouldn't tell me why or what I have but I know it's serious. The other night I heard a doctor mention radiation poisoning but that's impossible. I mean what would I have gotten it from? The radium? No they said it was safe…why would my own people lie to me?

Alfred's coming in a few months after he finishes with something important. He told me it has to do with the other girls that worked in the factory and not to worry. Not to worry he says. He's not the one that's just lost the rest of his hair, feeling nearly unbearable pain in his jaw…knowing what it feels to be human.

 _August_

Alfred held me close today and told me the truth. While I'll make it I'll be the only one. Seventy girls, all of them I saw as sisters are gone. Five had managed to sue but they were so weak they couldn't even raise their arms to take the oath. Alfred will make sure that I'm forgotten in the records but that does little to ease my mind. Seventy young women…sure the Radium girls won the case but was their lives really only worth 10,000 dollars?

"How much did they give you?" Alfred asked as the sun was sinking, "Per dial I guess."

"A penny and a half…" I answered as l looked out the window.

He sighed quietly as he tucked me in, "I'm not going to even ask if it was worth it."

I didn't say anything as I watched the sun set below the horizon. As the room grew dark I did notice one thing that I wish I hadn't. The numbers on Alfred's watch started to lightly glow.

 **A/N: I like to use the name Katelyn for FemAmerica instead of Amelia so sorry if that might cause some confusion.**


	6. Dark water, Canada

**A lovely reviewer asked for the sinking of the RMS Empress of Ireland**

Screams might be what he'll remember most about this night. As the nation desperately tries to find a way out it's all he can hear. One woman's screams are almost deafening as she cries out for her children already lost in the dark water. Canada wants to help but as he takes a step forward the massive ship starts to turn and roll on its side. "Matthew!" He hears as a crew member grabs his wrist, "Sir we have to get the hell out of here."

"Yes but…" He realizes that the woman's screams have stopped and it sends a chill down his spine, "Right to, oh the port holes."

The human doesn't have to be told twice at the two run to a cabin and throw open the port hole. "Sir you go-"

"Go now. I'll live." Matthew interrupts as he shoves the man out the window. Though in reality he's not sure if that's true or not. He had drowned a few times when he was a child and been fine but then that was the pond in the back yard not the Saint Lawrence River at two in the morning. What's to say he can't drown and stay dead? Would anyone ever find his body?

This new found fear is what sends him scrambling through the port hole just as the ship dives under the water. The icy water is a shock to his body and for a second he still fears that he could drown. "Patrick?" He cries out looking around him, "Patrick!"

The crew man calls out, "Over here Matthew." Once he sees his friend's head whip around he quickly starts to swim over. "The damn ship rammed us."

"We can worry about that later." Canada says once his friend's by his side, "Right now we have to just not drown until someone can get to us…" He's trying his best to stay awake but with all the death in the air he's finding it hard to remain conscious. "So many…" He mutters as Patrick holds him as he tries to keep the nation afloat. "Lost…went wrong…"

"Matthew," He hears but the world around him is growing cold, "Matthew? Damn it, stay awake."

Though he tries he can't.

The nation awakens a week later and it's only then does he learn about exactly how many were lost that night. Nearly the entire ship when down. It hits him the hardest when he hears that only three children survived. He's not surprised really; no little body could handle the cold water of one of his rivers like that.

The only thing that does surprise him is that even a hundred years after the accident…Norway still refuses to look him in the eye.


	7. Black Devils, Germany & Canada

As the meeting wraps up Germany notices a book that France was reading. It's a worn book of Voltaire. Curious the nation thumbs through it coming across a passage that catches his eye. "Canada is a few acres of snow…" That's not right, sure the quiet nation can be forgotten but the German remembers a few things about the nation may others don't.

Perhaps in Voltaire's time the small nation was a tiny nation with little use but by the time he met him the nation was all but. He was on patrol late one night in 1943, he had heard rumors of a group of black devils but he was sure it was nothing more than American propaganda. Nothing to be concerned about yet that was before he walked out towards a moonlight road.

The moon shone brightly above giving him enough light to see but he still felt like something was out there in the darkness. "Hello?" He said in a whisper, thinking that it was perhaps Italy or just a cat. When he's answered by a tree snap he spun around to the sound with his rifle up.

There in the darkness he spotted a pair of blue eyes. While he was sure he had seen them before they sent a chill down his spine, "America you shouldn't have come alone."

"What makes you think I'm my brother?" The voice says in a teasing tone. "Or that I really am alone?"

From the corner of his eye he saw more movement. It was as if the woods around him were coming to life and all he could see was the bright blue of their eyes. "What are you?" He asked as he thought that whatever they weren't human.

He's answered by a smug laughter, "The worst is yet to come."

"What?"

As sudden as the large crowd arrived they're where gone leaving only him and the unknown stranger. He stepped out into the moonlight, his face caked in black with one long blonde curl sticking out from under his helmet. "The worst is yet to come, Germany. You messed with my family, my brothers," His eyes darkened as he let out a hiss, "My Papa."

"Canada…" Germany said as he watched the man melt back into the woods.

The nation had let him live only because it was a warning. Germany came face to face with one of the black devils that day and it would haunt him until the war ended.

"Germany?" He hears behind him. As he turns around he's once again face to face with those bright blue eyes, "Sorry but Papa asked to get his book."

Germany nods as he hands it to him, "Have you ever read this?"

"I have once or twice but well he never did like me." He says sliding the book under his arm, "But Papa loves it so I can live with it."

"I see." Germany answers watching him go. "A few acres of snow…only when at war." He says out loud to himself. "His heart becomes as cold as ice and as sweet as he can be he's not a devil I'd want to mess with again."

 **A/N: This was sort of a review request, sort of not. The black devils were group of American and Canadian military men during WW2. They were the beginning of the special opts of today.**


	8. Three Mile Island, America

**A/n: sadly the link I was sent in a review was incomplete but I'll continue with the theme**

He shouldn't be able to stand in the middle of second street during rush hour but here he is. He's plainly dressed in his faded blue jeans and faded leather jacket. To anyone looking down from above he's a random teenager who might be a little too high for the situation they're under. "Hey man." A male voice calls out from a side alley before venturing out into the deserted street. "What are you doing?"

"I could say the same to you man." America answers looking the man up and down seeing he can't be older than twenty five. "Didn't you hear they evacuated the city?"

The human nods as he crams his hands in his pockets. "It was voluntary so my boss just laughed when I called." He lets out a chuckle, "So if it goes than I'll go with it. So why are you standing here?"

"Not like I'll get shot." America answers with a smile. It's a joke only the other man would understand. "But maybe I should head down towards Hershey."

"Think that's far enough away?" They both look towards the rising white smoke in the distance. "Hell I think Philly is too close."

Now America nods. "Ever thought you'd see Harrisburg this quiet?"

"It's like a ghost town…" Both men shutter at the thought. "Well I should go before my boss kills me."

Once the young man is gone America walks down a small street before making his way to the bridge over the Susquehanna river. Once again it's deserted so as he makes his way across it he stops and stares down river. His eyes quickly make out the cooling towers peeking out from above the tree filled islands. His heart skips a beat as his people work quickly to avoid disaster.

He pulls out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lights it. He rarely smokes anymore but as his eyes fixate on the towers sending the white smoke into the air, he flicks away the ash. "If it goes…well I wonder if I'd go." He thinks out loud knowing that it has enough radiation to wipe out a good portion of this state if not a good portion of his eastern seaboard. "Well…" he says bring the cigarette to his lips. "It was a good idea on paper."


	9. Home, Australia

Few of his brothers remember their mothers, even fewer are sure they're still alive out there in their lands. He remembers her clearly though he hasn't seen her in over a hundred years. Not because he didn't know where she was but rather he wasn't sure if she'd see him. As he walks down the long dirt road he plays over in his head what he can say. "I'm sorry Mum…it was my people er government," He says to himself as he shakes his head. "No that doesn't sound right…Mum it was complicated. They thought they were doing the right thing…"

He stops letting out a loud sigh. "I knew they weren't. I can't bullshit her, she's my Mum." He says as a kangaroo shakes its head. "Oh don't give me that look Mate, it was a different time. It was a different way of thinking. It wasn't right but...I fuckin' let it happen." The kangaroo turns it's back on him and wanders away.

The nation watches it go before continuing on his journey still unsure what to say to the woman that raised him long before England took him from her. He bites his lip thinking about the early times with the nation and how harsh he could be. "Mum I ran away so many fucking times I can't keep count. I…I wanted to be back with you and not that jackass."

His memories flood back with every step he takes until he's a few feet from her doorsteps. New fears rise to the surface and he wonders if she'll want to even see him. "Damn it." He mutters as he walks slowly up to her door and knocks.

He's greeted with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile. "Jarrah…or should I say Jett?"

"Whatever you want to call me is fine." Australia says unable to look her in the face still trying to think of what to say to her.

She takes his shoulder before placing her other hand under his chin bringing it up to meet her eyes again. "I want to call you Son."

He won't cry in front of her, he's been through too much to let the tears flow. Instead he embraces her tightly as he wonders why it's taken him this long to come home. "Mum I…Mother I've missed you."

The ex-nation kisses the top of her son's head, proud in the fact that he's an independent and strong nation. "I missed you too and welcome home."

 **A/N: To the lovely review Amelia I'm sorry but I won't be doing your headcannon in this series. It's an awesome headcannon and I'm sure someone would gladly make it into a oneshot.**


	10. Fire ballooons, Japan

The stone is all that's left of his plan. It stands near the explosion that took the lives of five people. Japan reads the names over and over. In a different time he would have been happy to have seen his plan work but now seeing how young they were leaves a foul taste in his mouth.

It leaves him wondering how many more had been affected by his balloons. He sent thousands to America yet he had only learned of one that landed. "Alfred?" He asks looking away from the stone. "How many?"

The American looks up from his phone. "How many what?" When Japan looks back at the monument it clicks. "Not sure really…I mean don't get me wrong it was a unique idea and the one that ended up in Los Angeles freaked everyone out." It comes with a smirk. "People still think it was an UFO but then I'd rather them think that than-"

"My bombs were making it to your land." Japan finishes. Both nations had opposite tactics during the war. For Japan his people were scared out of their minds about the American devils and all they would do to them. Many of his people killed themselves than surrender to America while America it seems covered everything up.

"See I didn't want to cause a panic. My government and press agreed so you only ever heard of that one little balloon." America shakes his head. "Sad that they can't still be like that. I mean classified once really meant classified."

"Is that why they died?"

America turns to the stone with a sigh. "Yeah…they didn't know what they found. Probably thought it was a weather balloon that fell so they picked it up."

Japan slowly nods taking it all in. "At least you found all of my bombs." When he's answered by silence he turns to his old friend. "Alfred?"

"Dude you said you released about nine thousand right?"

"Yes?"

"I found three hundred." Japan's eyes widen as America crams his hands in his pockets and looks up at the sky above. "If they're out there they're buried under a few decades of dead leaves and decay. Though I know Mattie found on too."

"What did he do with it?"

"It's on display at one of his museums." America says finally pulling himself away from the memorial. "At least it only killed five people…"

"Children…" Japan corrects under his breath as he memorizes the names that America has never forgot.


	11. Nightmares, Ukraine

**So this was a review idea**

It's something that haunts her. A nightmare that refuses to disappear, no matter how long her lover cradles her in his arms the pain and images continue until the morning light. "What do you see?" He asks one night when the screams echo loudly through the house.

"Matthew…" She manages through her sobs gripping his shirt tightly, quietly praying for the memories to stop. "They were farmers, children."

He holds her to his chest until she hiccups. "It will help."

"No it won't. He still refuses to see that he did anything wrong." She slams her eyes shut as a child appears in front of her. It's a girl no more than nine years old with hallow lifeless eyes holding a single piece of wheat. The girl walks forward as in in a trance before a man appears behind her holding a pistol. "They died in the streets…" She whispers as the man lowers the weapon and shoots the child in the back of the head. "By his hand."

Canada takes her by the shoulders. "Kat look at me, please."

She shakes her head as another image replaces the first. This time of her, thin and barely hanging on tied by her wrists to two adjacent trees as the snow falls around her. "He said he had to teach me a lesson. That to be one with him…" She looks up to see her brother with that bloody pipe in his hands. "I would have to learn to listen." Russia raises the pipe high into the air with a look of disgust on his face before the image melts away.

A rare anger bubble to the surface but Canada tries not to let it show. "What did he do exactly?"

Slowly her eyes open as tears stream down her face. "Do not make me say Matthew…" She says in a hushed whisper. "Please I beg you…"

He kisses her forehead. "Alright but,"

"Holodomor." She says curling into the safety of his embrace. "It was a genocide that he caused."

As gentle as he can be he warps their quilt around her, knowing that their night is far from over. "I know what it was and I promise you that I will never let him touch you again."

"You can't promise that," She starts to say as the last memory plays. Russia looks up with a look of confusion as a file is tossed down to him. He looks it over before throwing it into his fireplace. "Not until he admits it to himself…what he's done."


	12. Bloody snow, Belguim & America

**Another review request**

I never saw Germany as a devil but those people of his…my god they were monsters when they wanted to be. There is war and there is murder and what I saw that day was murder. I spotted them earlier in the day trying to pass probably on their ways to fight the Americans. Well they found a few and quickly took them as prisoners near my town of Malmedy.

Now my brother has warned me to look the other way but I recognized one of the Americans they had captured. There was only one with a brash smile that wide and eyes that blue. He put his hands up annoyed that the Germans had taken him and the men he was with but I'm sure he already had a plan of how he was going to escape.

Really I was curious on how he was going to do it so I crept up into the field where he and his men were lined up and hid behind a large tree. It was so quiet with the sound of feet crunching into the snow when one tall officer stood forward. He glared at them before it all went to hell.

The sound was deafening as the men started to fall like the snow. I had to cup my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming as I saw America's head snap back as bullets from that awful machine gun rattled his body. He collapsed into the snow as his men tried to flee or fight back. Many of them were taken down by the German's gun while some thankfully escaped into the woods. My people quickly took action but when a few hid in a café…the Germans burned that to the ground as well.

I wanted to help, to run to him but I had to wait until that officer finished his bloody work. America was down, was wounded but the officer took out his revolver and shot him again and again until he was sure the nation was dead. He did the same to others before walking away.

"Alfred!" I screamed before I could stop myself, I didn't care if the Officer came back and killed me. He was hurt or could have been near death and I wasn't going to let him die in the snow with the others. "Alfred, oh my god." I cradled his head in my arms as I prayed that his eyes would open again. I didn't know his language well, I knew a few phrases but as he slowly opened his eyes nothing would come out. "A…America."

He was in so much pain and the snow around him was stained dark red. "Bella…" He choked out grabbing for my sleeve. "Men? Men?"

"They're gone, you're safe." I answered hugging him closer as tears started to fall.

He managed to shake his head asking in my language. "My men…are they safe?" It was so quiet but I heard him perfectly. So when he tried to turn his head I stopped him. "Bella."

The wound in his forehead was oozing blood into his blonde hair making thick streaks that clung to my fingers. He would live but his recovery would take time. "Yes," I said as his eyes started to close. It was a lie but I knew it would bring him peace if only for the moment. "As are you."

It took him a month to recover from his wounds and for his men to retake the area but even then he refused to leave until all his men were accounted for. He was in pain yet he tried not to let it show, but I saw it in his eyes. He was burning with anger and nothing I said or did was going to change his mind. "Bella…I'll make those SS bastards pay." I took his arm as he leaned on me for support. "My God I'll make them pay." Slowly I nodded as I tried to escort him back to my home. He didn't want to leave but eventually he allowed me to walk him away. He would leave later that day but neither of us would forget.

I don't know how he was before the massacre but I know he was changed after. He still returns to this little village every few years to sit on the wall I put up to honor those lost that day. He looks up into the winter sky as a tear falls that only I am allowed to see. Once he's done he jumps down and takes my arm. Normally we'll walk in silence but quietly today he whispers something before leaning down and kissing my head. I smile softly as I hold tighter to his arm. "You're welcome Alfred."


	13. Psychosurgery, Portugal

He wishes he could go back in time when he thinks back to what he was once so proud of. There was once a time when he looked over at America with a proud smile but slowly that smile faded away to a point neither would look at each other. No words had to be said because really what could he say? He knew what the operation was doing to his people yet he remained quiet and let the doctor do his work.

"How stupid could I have been?"

"Hmm?" England looks up from his cup of tea to see his old friend holding a thin surgical instrument in his hands. "What is that?"

Portugal doesn't say a word as he looks it over. It's a thin metal tube and when he presses on end a wire appears at the other end. He presses it a few times before speaking. "They went in blind you know. They stuck this deep into the brain and then guessed how far was far enough then cut."

England nods understanding what his friend is talking about. "It was crude."

"It was barbaric."

After another sip England sighs. "Demetrio at the time they and you thought it was a cure."

Again Portugal presses the end. "I never thought it was a cure. Neither did he in fact, no the goal was the keep the patient from acting up. I mean why cure when it's easier to cut out what makes them a problem?" He sits across from the other nation with the instrument in his hands. "It's called a leucotome in fact this was the one he made."

"May I see it?"

Carefully he hands it to the Brit. "You see he had arthritis and had to have someone else make the first cuts. He was there of course to take all the credit for his methods and he changed it later."

"So this was before the other procedure…" He shutters at the thought. "Really I never understood Italy's and America's…I won't say obsession but," He stops handing it back.

"They thought they had the key to keep patients in line so they took it and ran with it. But it this was the start of it all." As he says it Portugal stands and walks to his cabinet. "With it he won the Nobel."

Picking up his tea England nods. "They tried to take it back didn't they?"

"They did but he was able to keep it." He locks the cabinet remembering back to seeing the doctor in his later years. "Maybe they felt bad for him. I mean the one man he didn't give one to end up shooting him."

"Yes well at least no one remembers that he was the original Dr. Lobotomy. Let the Americans keep that title."

"Normally I would agree except it doesn't stop the nightmares."

"Nothing does really. Not even one of those damn surgeries."


	14. LSD, America

**Warning the following story contains drug reactions and while based on historical facts is a work of fiction. There is also part two but because of current events will be postponed out of respect for the nation it would contain.**

Normally when my brother has an outburst during a meeting he's of sound mind but today I know something's wrong. I'm sitting beside him trying to stay awake when he takes my arm and squeezes it hard. "Ow, what?" I whisper coarsely as I glare at him.

His eyes are wide but I know by how dilated his pupils are that he's higher than a kite. His grip tightens as his arm starts to shake. "Mattie…" He starts sounding panicked. "The white boarded moved on its own."

I blink turning my attention to the white board in front before turning back to him. "Al it's not moving."

"Yes it is! Yes it is, there are ghosts here!" He suddenly starts to scream getting everyone's attention. "I feel them crawling all over me." He sinks to his knees as he starts to scratch and tear at his skin. "Get them off of me!"

While most stare in confusion and shock, what he's saying reminds me of a desperate call from decades before. "Alfred, what did you take?" I command as I pull his hands away from his now bleeding arms. When he doesn't answer me I shake him. "Did you let anyone near your Coke?"

"Has he been poisoned?" Someone asks but I don't turn my head away from my brother.

"Alfred." I start although I know it's no use. He's on a bad drug trip and the only thing I can do is keep him from hurting himself. "Matthias, Ludwig come over here and hold him down." I yell back hoping someone will help me as my brother starts to scream again about ghosts. "Antonio? Fuck someone help me here!" They can't do anything but stare with mouths open from either me yelling at them or my brother's strange antics.

Finally after what feels like hours Scotland as well as Denmark takes both arms as Spain holds down his legs. "Oi, Lad what the fuck are yah goin' on about?" Scotland asks though he's looking at me for answers.

"Oh they're everywhere!"

"Alfred." I take his face and force him to look me in the eyes. "Did you take anything?"

I see a moment of clarity in his eyes. "N-No…" He inhales slowly as his pupils grow. "God, I'm tripping balls…"

While I know he's not trying to be funny it leaves a weak smile on my face. "Yeah I figured," I say as I run a hand through his hair. "You have any ideas what that was?" As he nods I motion for them to let go. "Okay?"

He looks down. "It's classified."

"Don't you give us that," Scotland says as he smacks him across the back of his head. "Yah scare the shit out of us so we get a fuckin' answer besides it's classified."

I have an idea who or what might have caused it, but I also know it's not my place to say. So when America's eyes start to water I pull him closer in an attempt to shield him from their questions. He whispers one word in my ear and I hate the fact that I was right. "It was a flashback." I say not daring to let go of my brother.

By now many have either left out of respect or are closing in waiting for an answer. Scotland just crosses his arms as England joins his side. "And what kind of flashback?"

"Drug." England answers as he takes his older brother by the arm. He wants to swoop in and take my brother into his arms but he knows it's not his place this time. "He said what I think he said didn't he?"

I hear a sniffle coming from my brother and while he'll probably hate me later for telling I have to. Only I've been allowed to know what happened to him back in 1958. His own government wanted to see what the drug would do to him and others so as he and I were drinking one night they laced his drink with LSD. It was the first time he really started to talk about these 'ghosts' and I could kick myself for not realizing it as soon as he started screaming.

To the agent that did it I'm sure it was amusing to watch him scream and trash around before nearly shooting me in the head with his revolver. Then it took him hours to calm down and it was clear that it had scarred him deeply. "He did." I say feeling my brother break away from me.

"And what did he say?" Scotland asks clearly annoyed to be out of the loop.

Calmly my brother rises to his feet. "I said…the CIA."

"Wait," Scotland says as it starts to sink in. "Your own government drugged yah?"

What my brother says next sends a shiver down my spine as he looks our Uncle square in the eye. "You have no idea."


	15. Wandering souls, Vietnam and America

It was a brilliant idea, one of his best thought out plans. He wasn't the only one afraid of ghosts after all and with a little of his movie magic he'd leave the enemy running scared. "General it's called the Ghost Tape number ten and I think it'll come in handy." The Nation said with a wide smirk as he slid the tape over.

The General picked it up and with a chuckle handed it to major. "So it pays to sleep with the enemy doesn't it?"

America's smile faltered. "She isn't the enemy it is that 'brother' of hers."

"Aren't they one in the same?"

Normally he won't show anger to a high ranking man but in a rare moment he slams his fist down on the table nearly breaking it in two. "No they are not the same." He said gritting his teeth. "She is our ally and he is our enemy. He's the north, she the south and when we win the war his happy ass will disappear." His anger subsided quickly. "Sir."

"While I hope you're right and really Alfred I won't pretend to understand how you and the nations work I still have to be prepared if he doesn't just in your words disappear." He knew the nation was upset but he turned and walked out with the tape in hand. "War is war Alfred. It's us versus them and it is that black and white." With that he left the nation alone.

It was a brilliant idea, perfect for a few months in fact. It scared the enemy in the dead of the night when the wails of the dead rose up from the forest around. He made sure that the North heard it every chance he could but never did he let his lover heard what shook her male counterpart. "Let me hear it." She once asked as the sun began to set.

"No," He answered throwing his boots to the floor of her hut. He could hear the helicopters in the distance as well as the sounds of frantic gunfire. "It's not meant for you."

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him in the candle light. "Joe I want to hear it."

Again he refused. "Only them and Buddha can hear it." Soon the tape started to play from the helicopter.

 _"_ _My friends, I come back to let you know that I am dead ... I am dead, I am in Hell ... just Hell"_

"Joe?"

He stood up and closed her windows before returning to her bed. "One day. But until then tell me one of your stories." He patted the spot next to him as his dog tags shimmered in the weak light. "Please? You tell me one of yours and I'll tell you one of mine."

 _"_ _It was a senseless death. How senseless ... how senseless…"_

If she heard it she never let him know. "Alright." She answered as she sat beside him allowing him to wrap his strong arms around her. "Did I tell you about the wandering soul?"

"Once," He said kissing her temple. "But I'd love to hear it again."

It was a brilliant idea, lost from the history books though the Nation doesn't mind. The tapes he once made still sends shivers down his spine. A child calling to her father, a soldier crying out from hell to his brothers, each meant to end the war and to scare the Vietcong.

"Joe?"

America turns around after a meeting to see her standing there with a phone in her hand. "Hey…what's up?"

"Number ten." She answers simply pressing the play as a haunting melody starts to play.

Just as it turns to wails the blond nation takes it from her hands. "God damn it Lien," He says nearly crushing the phone in his hand. "Where did you get this?"

"Internet." She answers in a cool tone. "You couldn't hide it forever." Her eyes bore deep into his soul and he knew he couldn't hide from her questions. "Did you use my stories to make these?"

With a sigh he nods. "Yeah I did." Slowly he opens his hand and the cracked phone within.

"Why? Why that?"

"Because," He says handing it back to her. "I'm not the only one afraid of ghosts."

She looks down at it then back up into his blue eyes. "I never told you that."

"You didn't have to."

 **A/N: some more AmeViet cause I think they're really cute together but really the tapes used by the US are very creepy and worth a listen. Anyway if anyone has any ideas or requests for stories just PM me and I'll do a little research.**


	16. Inmates, England

**So a lovely reviewer asked for Victorian poor workhouses**

Nightmares are what he calls them. Every time he awakens safe in his bed though he can't shake the feeling that he's just escaped an unknown hell. In his dreams he feels the slaps of the wood or sometimes a piece of wire on his arms, legs even a few times he's hit in the face before he's able to wake up. "No more tea before bed…" He says to himself as he sits awake trying to force the disembodied screams out of his head.

They are never the same but for what he can tell they're that of a child. Boys mostly, young that he's sure of but who he hasn't the slightest clue. Eventually he'll fall back asleep only to see them again. Faces he doesn't know, names he doesn't recognize but his people none the less.

Deep down he knows where they come from, why they call out to him in the dead of night yet he'll ignore them the best he can. "No…" He says after one night waking up like his whole body is covered in welts and blood. "It's for their own good…there's standers, regulations and bloody hell…" He says as a few tears escape knowing that he's lying to himself.

Perhaps at one time it would have worked, make the lazy work hard to earn their keep but these that scream out to him aren't lazy bums in the street. Slowly he'll walk past one every now and again. Large buildings that loom over him though he's never set foot inside of one he knows what goes on within. Work of course but the cruelty that comes with it is enough to sicken him.

A few times he's worked up the nerve to watch the children play, forgetting for a moment that they're inmates and orphans. A few even wave to him before being ushered back inside for a lesson. They appear happy but behind their smiling faces he can see the sadness in their eyes. Some will become servants; others will join his army or navy. Some will try to forget the pain while others will never be able to erase the scars.

"I'm sorry…" He'll say seeing one or two men standing proudly ready to fight for him and their countrymen.

Few hear him but even fewer ask. "For what Sir?"

"Nothing…" He'll answer. What could he say to them?

Normally it would be enough for the soldier but for one it's not enough. "Sir it's not nothing…and I'm not being rude but you don't say sorry for no reason."

"What's your name?" He asks ashamed that he doesn't already know.

"William." The soldier replies before taking a step forward. "It…wasn't your fault sir…I don't blame yah for the thrashings. They weren't that bad in fact I was better off than most."

Seeing the smile on the man's face is too much for the nation to bear and like those nightmare filled nights he finds tears pouring down like rain. "William…I, please forgive me." He cries out holding the young man like he would his ex-brothers.

Those around look on in surprise but for William he understands instantly. "Nothing to forgive," William says softly embracing his nation. "Just don't forget the names…don't forget us."

He nods as his voice catches in his throat. England doesn't have the heart to tell him that he can't forget the names because he never knew them in the first place.


	17. Silver, China & England

**This comes from an idea from a lovely reviewer**

It's not that he dislikes the other nation; trade is always a good thing if the price is right but he also knows when the old pirate is being sly. "Silver." He says as he sips his tea slowly. Beside him his younger brother plays quietly with one of his many cranes.

Across the table from him the western nation watches. "I have more to trade than just silver."

China doesn't waver as he sips again. "Silver for tea." While he could ask for many of the blonde man's technology his pride won't let him besides silver is a fair thing to trade for such high quality items as tea and silk. "Is that a problem?"

While he bites his lip England doesn't answer. His silver and gold won't last any longer and his queen is looking for better ways of saving money. "Well no it's not and like promised I'll continue to give you silver but what if I gave you something more?"

It's answered by a chuckle. "And what could you give me that I don't already have?"

"Opium perhaps?"

Hong Kong looks up from his friend long enough to see his big brother's eyes widen. "Opium?" He asks quietly as China lowers his cup onto the table.

"I will not take your opium. I want silver or gold otherwise you may go somewhere else for your tea. Perhaps India will give you some of his once you're done thieving from his lands."

England ignores his remark and turns to the child beside him. "It's a drug, a wonderful one in fact." As he says it he digs into his breast pocket and pulls out a small bag. "Would you-"

He doesn't finish as China smacks his hand hard on the table spilling both their teas and startling his younger brother. "How dare you bring that here and ask him if he would like to try! Get out."

"Very well." England answers as he picks up his jacket and hat. "You will get your silver as promised as long as you keep the port open."

Shooting him a wicked glare China answers as he grits his teeth. "Do not speak to me like that. You may have the rest of the world at your fingertips but I will not be your puppet."

They lock eyes for a brief moment before England leaves without saying a word, a coy smile growing on his face. As he lowers the hat on his head he chuckles to himself. "Silver for tea indeed."

Back in the garden Hong Kong holds the crane's neck unsure if he should speak to his brother who is glaring out at the lake beyond. He's seen the look before and is afraid to anger him more but the little territory knows something the older nation doesn't. "Brother?"

"Go play Xianggang and I don't want you speaking to that man or any others not like us do you understand?"

"Yes brother…but-"

"Go."

Quickly Hong Kong picks up his crane and races off with tears streaming down his face. He knows what is to come and he fears what his brother will do. "Crane…" He says hugging the bird tighter knowing that his friend will listen. "It's already here…and we are giving them our silver for it…"


	18. Gas clouds, Canada & Scotland

**I will be doing more reviews after this one about one of the battles of Ypres.**

The bile rises in his throat as he presses the moist cloth to his face breathing in the smell of urine. If it will really stop the yellow gas clouds rolling towards him across the open fields he doubts but it's better than choking to death like the men in front of him have. French, Moroccan, Algerian...all his colony brothers left to suffocate under the clouds the Germans have released.

He knows it's a fool's errand but he's willing to take that chance so he crosses himself as a heavy hand rests on his shoulder. "Yah ain't goin' out there."

"They'll be dead within-"

"They are nations, they'll live." Scotland answers, pulling down his handkerchief for only a moment to speak clearly. "You aren't playin' hero today."

"I'm not playing anything." Canada answers, taking a step towards the gas that is inching closer to him. But before he has a chance to race into the burning chemicals his Uncle takes his wrist. "Damn it Scott."

"You'll get your chance boy." He answers raising his handkerchief again.

As they argue a breeze brings a new terror as a fresh cloud engulfs them; both blinded as the gases fill their lungs choking the life out of them. Canada falls holding his throat as the bile he was holding back makes its way to the surface. Others around him fall, screaming in agony as their bodies succumb to the gases.

He was prepared, that's what he told himself as the world around him goes black, the taste of metal coating his tongue. He can't cry out as someone pulls him to his feet forcing him back towards what he prays is safety. He'll live to fight another day though his eyesight may never be the same.


	19. The Great war, Australia

**I had come across this researching something else but thanks to a lovely reviewer came back and really looked into it.**

The Aussie looks down at the large dead bird in front of him, its body bleeding from the many bullet wounds covering its body. He turns his head counting the dead on the sun beat battlefield. "Five…" He says after a moment. "God what are they doing?"

"Seems like guerrilla warfare to me." A voice says behind the nation. When Australia looks back the Major sitting on the back of a truck, one hand on the machine gun attached to it. "They're fucking smart that's for sure."

"Yeah I saw that leader of theirs…Mate he's a huge black one that was eyeing me the entire time before he gave the call to retreat." Again he scans the horizon for any signs of their enemy. "I'm going to get him by the end of this and mount him on my wall."

With a chuckle the major shakes his head. "You can try but I think we have underestimated our enemy here. They're like warriors and we'll have to outsmart them before we run out of bullets."

Australia nods before climbing into the back of the truck. He had thought this would be a simple game. Target practice while helping out his veterans, everyone wins but it's clear to the country that those plans have gone completely out the window. He should have known that his Emus won't go without a fight and once his press picks it up it won't be long until England is at his door with a smirk on his face. "Meredith we can't let these birds win. England will knock me on this one."

"No worries we'll have most of them killed soon." While he gives a smile even he's having his doubts.

"Yeah," The nation answers as they drive back towards one of the farm houses. From the bushes he can feel the Leader of the Emus watching him, buying his time until the nation gives up and goes home. It won't be long either though the nation doesn't want to admit it.

He's lost this war and England won't let him forget it.


	20. The last of the Bisons, Native America

He inhales slowly taking in the vast emptiness around him. How he wishes he could say it hasn't changed but the nation knows better. Ahead of him, a lone bison walks across the land seeming to walk across the horizon before disappearing out of his sight, soon it'll share the same fate as its brothers. Was this really the way to get things done? To destroy a creature that had meant so much to him and his people and to have his own son leading the charge is enough to turn his stomach.

Behind him two men sit watching as their people continue their day's work two miles away. "What is he lookin' at?" The red haired Irishman asks turning to his Chinese companion. They had seen him the day before watching the work they were doing though at first neither knew who he was. He was a personification, an old one that much they could feel but, who exactly was a mystery.

China doesn't answer right away as he watches the eagle feathers in the nation's hair dance in the gentle breeze. "What he's lost." He says as it clicks on who the man in front of them is.

"Lost?" Ireland shakes his head thinking the same thing. "He's gaining a way to get people across his land. Hell he should be proud of that little shit. Did yah see how far he shot that thing from?"

"I did." The nation answers turning back to them, his brown eyes masking the sadness in his heart. "He was so proud of himself."

The tone in his voice is enough to break China's heart. "He's come a long way. He's still native but-"

"He knows what he's doing." The brown haired nation says gritting his teeth. "His mother taught him our ways, to respect our way of life and the land but." He stops letting out a sigh. His anger is not with the two nations in front of him though it's their people helping to destroy what he holds dear. "Go back to your work because I hear you have a deadline to meet." It comes with a glare as the nation turns and walks towards the horizon.

He only stops when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him. "Wait."

"Leave me child." He answers not looking back. "I have nothing to say to you."

America takes a step forward. "But for once we can talk without our people, you know causing problems."

In an instant the older whips his head around. "It was not my people causing the problems as you call them. We took care of this land and I of you when your mother left this world." When the younger man looks down his father shakes his head. "Go back to building your wall child because there's still a handful of skulls left to add to it."

The young nation doesn't know what to say as he watches the man fade away into the setting sun. Slowly he turns around to come face to face with a large bison. Normally it would be fair game for him and his rifle but now staring deep into it's eyes he can't bring himself to harm the creature he once loved. Quietly he lifts his hand never losing eye contact with the large animal. "Hey…" He says resting his hand on the bison's forehead. They stand alone long after the first stars appear in the sky before the bison turns and walks off. He's been across him land countless times, even before his boss had claimed it as his. Never once did he feel anything but amazed by the beauty around him but now walking back to his camp he's never felt so alone.

 **A/N: This was an idea from one of the reviews asking for some Native America in the 1800s and I'll be doing a few of the reviews out of order mixed with a few random ones I find on my own.**


	21. Death of a Queen, South Korea & Russia

**This comes from an idea from a lovely reviewer.**

He'll never forget that day or what his so called brother had done to defile his queen. While she was an orphan and was to be used as a puppet he knew she was destined for something more, something great.

South Korea remembers looking into her sharp eyes before turning to his sister. "She has a sharp mind..."

"Yes." She answered in a hushed whisper. "She won't be easily fooled like her husband..." North Korea's eyes darted up to their shared king and the young man's father. "He already hates her."

"Her husband?"

"Her father in law." North answered before walking away. "Mark my words, brother. He'll have her killed if she's not careful."

That day South Korea could do nothing but watch hoping that it would never come to that. That her rule would be a long one even as Japan was knocking on their doors. She would help him fight back, save him from what they both knew what was coming. "Empress..." He said quietly as he looked up at the stars above.

"Don't worry my dear." The Queen answered looking out into the gardens. "I have plans and thankfully Russia has agreed to them."

"And the Japanese?"

She turned back into her wing. "Let me worry about them. Now come, it's late."

With a smile he followed her to bed. He was content with the knowledge that she would send his brother packing so he and his sister would be free to live as they wished. But as the first morning light started to enter the garden he knew it won't ever be that way. "Leave them alone!" He cried out as two large men held him down on his knees with his hands crushed together behind his back. "Please." He could only watch in horror with tears streaming down his face as his queen and her servants were dragged out by their hair into the garden. "Kill me instead."

His cries fell on deaf ears as one man he knew as Japanese started to slice at the queen's clothes exposing her naked body. "Shut up." He heard before being hit across the head with the butt of a sword.

As his vision blurred he could pick up on loud laughter before they were replaced by screams of his Queen. "No..." He said again struggling harder to save the woman. "Stop!" He couldn't see anything but the look of fear in her eyes as the men pounced on her. "Min."

"Close your eyes...but never forget what the Japanese has done to me."

He found that he couldn't look away even as she was doused in oil once the men were done. "My Queen..." His voice cracked as her screams filled his ears and the smell choked his lungs. As her body burned in front of him, he felt their grip on him loosen until he was left to fall to his hands.

Soon she was nothing but ash. "The Queen is dead." One said smugly as he walked away. "But don't worry your king is still safe."

South Korea didn't say a word even as a tall nation helped him to his feet. "I'm sorry Korea...I'll tell."

"That she was murdered."

"But," Russia started as the smaller nation started to shake. "I saw everything."

"You saw nothing. She was murdered then burned to ash." His head whipped around, his eyes full of rage. "I'll never forget what he's done to my queen but you will."

Slowly Russia nodded knowing it wasn't his place to say what the other nation could not face. "Fine..."he said as he escorted the smaller nation away from the bloody scene. He couldn't nor would he forget what the other was forced to watch. "I'll forget but I won't leave you like this." When Korea didn't answer him he continued. "Perhaps...with a funeral? Once your King and Prince are safe."

"She will get the one she deserves." Korea answered quietly as he wiped his eyes. "A beautiful one...for my beautiful Empress..."

 **A/N: So the reason this isn't both Koreas is because her murder occurred in Seoul and for some reason I didn't see North being there. Russian allies of the queen were there though and were brought to see the scene and told in great detail by the Japanese.**


	22. Fight for Freedom, Indonesia

**This was an idea from a lovely reviewer**

I can feel his hard eyes watching me though I refuse to look up. I don't fear him, no matter how bloody our fights got over the past few years and how determined he was to keep me. For three hundred years he's ruled over me and my people until the Japanese sent him running. I won't lie it wasn't like that was any better; Japan after all can be rather...cruel when he wishes to be. But he did promise freedom, freedom to be my own country once again and rule without his queen. Once I got a small taste of it I knew it was exactly what my people and I need.

I won't lie I'm surprised we're being so formal, no civil is a better word for our meeting on this ship but, it might be because of who is on either side of me. It's funny really as I look over at America standing tall watching from the northern wall. They call him a super power now yet I remember when the man was just a child fighting for his own rights. He stood just as tall then and it's not hard to do the same. "Netherlands." I say looking up at the nation in front of me. I want to tell him what's on my mind; how he should have accepted my declaration years before.

"I agree to a cease fire." He answered biting his tongue; he also wants to say more, probably about how this will affect his wallet and his people it. It's written all over his face as I nod.

"I agree as well." I answer before being led away by both Australia and America. I never realized how much both men tower over me but then I never really got a good chance to meet either of them. "You don't have to walk me out. I'm a strong woman and I can handle myself."

America, dressed in a navel uniform, nods offering his arm to me. "We know Miss Indonesia it's just that well my mother taught me some manners." It's a joke I'm sure so I offer a smile. "But really we all want the same thing as you."

"Freedom, Mr. Jones?" I ask as we walk out into the open air where I can breathe in the smells of my harbor.

He looks up at the sky above. "We the Indonesian people hereby proclaim the independence of Indonesia..."

"So you heard?" I'm truly surprised.

"Really it's what we've all said at one time or another." Australia says warmly. "From one colony to another it's going to be hard and things might fall apart but don't let it."

"And we'll be keeping a watchful eye."

I have to stifle my laugh knowing exactly what that means. It's how they got my ex 'brother' to agree to meet me today. He stopped giving aid and if Netherland's not careful the American will stop giving him money all together. "Well thank you." I say before taking my leave. I know the fighting will continue no matter what was said today. I'm not free just yet and until that day comes I know he'll continue to fight for me. But like both men I just left I'll someday have it and hold my head up high.

I'm not the Dutch East Indies, I am the United States of Indonesia and soon the world will know it.

 **A/N: This story takes place in 1949 where for one year Indonesia was called the United States of Indonesia. It was disestablished in the summer of 1950 and now called the Republic of Indonesia**


	23. Walking, America

**I will be doing more of the reviews but again I came across this bit of American history and the story came to mind in fact there are is a bit of fan art on this topic that are some of my favorites.**

We have every detail down pact. It's a dance of sorts if you want to call it that and today like many others we'll be playing the part for our guests. England will be in the crowd, he's taken time away from his war torn lands to meet with my boss. Of course that will be after the speech he's giving to our people. So I wait while he attaches his braces. I've watched a dozen or more times as he straps them on before picking up his cane. "Alfred." He says simply reaching out for my arm.

Once he's on his feet his grip on my arm tightens slightly though I don't mind at all. "Ready?" I ask standing tall beside him.

"Yes let's go." He answers moving his cane as we 'walk' out of the room and down the hallway. Grip my arm, swing his leg, move his cane forward, swing his leg. Always keeping a steady pace to look natural for those watching though I know what he was always thinking. He'd never admit it to me but I'd never let him fall. Hell I'd feint injury myself if I have to, to make sure the public is none the wiser.

"Just a bit further." I whisper, seeing how tired this morning he is. "Are you alright?" He's vastly different from his brash cousin that stayed here before him. Yet like Theodore, I can read him like a book.

Roosevelt nods. "Just a bit tired." He answers and I can't blame him since the war has been dragging on for so long. It's taken its toll on him and while his wife does her best behind the scenes to keep everything running smoothly it's becoming too much.

As we reach the large meeting I mention a trip to New York and he agrees. "We could go after England goes home."

"He does know Alfred." He answers as we walk down the aisle, careful not to look down as we go. Grip my arm, swing his leg, move the cane, swing his leg. Cameras flash and reporters start to write. I can tell some know but will never say, like me it's a national secret to be kept until the time is right. When that day comes I don't know but I know he'll tell the world soon enough. He's carried this weight long enough...all ten pounds of it.


	24. Shadows, Japan & America

**A/N: Sorry I didn't abandon this series. Bad health, work and a snow storm got me a bit off track but I have one I've wanted to do for a while. I will go back to doing reviews soon.**

Etches, marks left bleached to the pavement. He's seen leaves on the pavement, ladders and fences each captured in black and white photographs by a passerby. The ones that give him pause though are the ones he dreams he could erase. A woman with a cane, a man looking up in awe...a child jumping rope, each one a shadow caught in a split second in time.

Shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid the late fall chill America stares down at a cat that was lying in the sun. Curled up and possibly asleep the creature didn't feel a thing or at least that's what he wants to believe. Beside him a new shadow appears but he doesn't say a word, nothing can be said.

It was war; he did what he had to do to end it. There was no radiation left after the bombing and none suffered. Lies he's told himself for decades but now faced with the truth it will haunt him for years to come.

Finally after what feels like hours the shadow next to him clears its throat. "Alfred..."

"I'm coming," he answers softly pulling out a thin cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Just wanted to see for myself."

The shadow nods standing by his side as the thin grey smoke rises up into the air. "There's more."

"I figured," he answers above a whisper finally pulling his eyes away from the shadows on the ground. "So are we going to Nagasaki?"

"We can. But..."

America drops the cigarette, crushing it under his boot. "I should really quit one of these days." Slowly he turns still unable to meet Japan's eyes. "Lead the way."

Etches, shadows of the ghosts that linger around the cities reminding both nations what they're capable of. Sins they can't simply scrub away and lives they can't give back. One day the buildings might be gone but the images will never fade away.


	25. Cover up, America

**This came from a lovely reviewer asking about a UFO in a certain Pennsylvanian town. Now no one knows what was said between Murphy and the two men so it could have been anything. But the truth is out there.**

While not one for tight black suits I do dress up pretty nicely if I do say so myself. Not that I'm here to impress more than intimidate? Yeah normally I'd be the one shouting about freedom of the press but, well if it had to be me or one of them I'd want it to be me. See my boys aren't against getting physical when it's a matter of national security so even though Murphy hasn't done anything...yet it's my job to make sure he doesn't.

"Just a word?" My college remarks to the newsman as he motions towards a back room. "It won't take long."

I don't say anything as the newsman locks eyes with mine. I simply nod and slowly he turns and leads the way. Once I'm in I close the door, blocking it so no one will leave until we're finished. Again I feel like someone else entirely, he's scared, the townspeople want answers and I can't give them any.

What would I say? Hey this thing landed in the middle of the woods, not sure what it is. If it's Russian or alien but don't you worry the military is here to set the matter straight. Panic on a national level I mean come on you saw what people did to that Japanese balloon during World War two. Complete panic and I let them think it was a UFO that time. So this time? Nope, sorry boys this shit is classified.

"You can't do this!" It's a weak attempt but he sees the look in my eyes. "This is unconstitutional."

Again I don't say one word but letting my other agent speak for me. "Now you can think that and keep the documentary the way you have it or well let's see...man found dead in the middle of field." Murphy's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he looks from me to my friend and then back to me. "Your choice."

It doesn't take long after to gather up all the evidence he found on what fell that night. It's a shame too since he had photographs, transcripts...hours if not weeks of work all mine now. Well my government's. Some will go under lock and key, others will be destroyed and for a small few pieces...well like I said he had good photographs.

I look down at one. Russian, alien...one of mine? Really not sure nor will I ever be but, damn it really does look like some trippy acorn with what looks like Arabic or Egyptian writing all over the rim. "Oh well...another Roswell." I say throwing a few other pictures into my fireplace knowing soon my brother will be calling me. He saw it too sadly so I'd hate to lie to him but well...sorry bro it was nothing.


	26. Logs, femChina

**A/n: a lovely reviewer asked for Unit 731**

Hushed whispers, secret deals and truth hidden never to see the light of day again. My little brother...never would I have imagined what he would do to me and my people. The pure cruelty I saw from him and his people. We were treated worse than animals left to die in the streets. At least an animal would have been put down before being dissected. We were nothing but logs to be cut down and used for their experiments.

The nightmares still haunt me, a cell door opening down the hall then the sound of muffled cries before laughter. My daughters, how I wish I could have taken their pain, that it was me who they visited but, they knew better than to enter my room and defile me.

It might have been out of respect or more likely they feared what children I would have borne could not have been killed. That even as they sliced me open and pulled out my organs it would have done nothing but grow my hatred. That doesn't mean I was untouched...no they froze my limbs every chance they got. Their favorite was my left leg...it would turn black and even I feared it would fall off a few times. Even today I try so hard to hide my limp, it's easy to say my feet were once bound but he knows the truth.

They know the truth.

Some hero, he's no better than my brother but at least my brother had the balls to look me in the eyes. The coward, the snake. When I went to him after, begging on my knees to call my brother's cruelty into light he laughed. He said, "I'm sorry what happened to you but, I already talked to Japan. Russia's trying to make it into something huge, I mean come on we've all done some shady things."

"He raped my daughters!" I screamed, tears threatening to fall. "He abused my people, Russia's people, your people. Does that not matter to you? We were left rotting alive and you want to turn your back on that?"

He turned away with a sigh. "Go home." It was the only answer I received.

It was so clear to me that I continued to scream. "You made a deal with him didn't you? You sold your soul so you won't have to get your hands dirty!" He refused to look at me, even after I slapped him across the face. "I'll go to Russia and tell him everything!"

That was the only time he looked me dead in the eyes with a looks that rivaled my brother's when he captured me. "It'll just be swept under the rug as some of his propaganda. Cause let's face it who would the world believe? Me or him?"

He was right, it's only a distant memory that I'm sure even they have forgotten but then I can see how since they weren't known as the log that wouldn't fall.


	27. Local news, America

**A/N: I didn't forget about this series and I will be doing more review requests soon**

A chuckle escapes the French man's throat as he looks over at his old friend as the meeting draws to a close. "You know I just remembered something this morning that I found funny."

"Oh I'm sure you did." England answers picking up his coffee to leave. "So what was it this time?"

America looks over from checking his messages knowing that whatever it is might actually be something he can use for black mail later. What he hears though is old news to him. "You actually had a day where you had no news so you played piano music, Good Friday if I remember correctly." He gives the shorter man a smirk.

England isn't swayed. "Yes it was a rare moment back in...1930 but too bad it can't happen today." He takes a long sip of his coffee. "With everything going on it would be lovely if for an hour there was nothing going on."

"Yeah that would be nice..." America says off handedly as he pockets his phone. "There's been a few...shitty things that's happened on air."

"Oh I know I've seen the rubbish your news reporters have played and sometimes I wonder if they have no shame." He walks out the door leaving the American behind. "Some would show a murder if it would get them enough ratings."

"Yeah," America says quietly picking up his own coffee as a memory long forgotten returns.

 _"_ _Those of you who are putting your cameras away, I think you ought to stay because we're not, we're not finished yet."_

It was a cold winter morning and for America who was leaning against the back wall it was all too clear that the man at the podium had lost his mind. The state treasurer had taken a bribe and got caught so he like most of the reporters was sure that this would be his resignation from office before he was going to be sentenced. It was enough of a story as it was, years in prison plus a hefty fine so this was just supposed to be the icing on the cake. But after hearing the rambling speech for over thirty minutes most were at a loss and ready to go home. That was until he asked for them to stay, at least to the end.

A thought entered his mind, 'If resignation wasn't on the agenda than why call a meeting?' America listened carefully, his eyes closed until the man stopped reading. America opened his eyes to see a few envelopes being passed around to some of the staff members. Each one marked for a different person and for different purposes.

While he and the rest felt like it was only a dragged on event to pull on any heart strings willing to listen, it wasn't not until a gun appeared that the nation knew something is very wrong.

A few women screamed as the man held the high powered weapon. Some tried to flee as others sat in utter shock, terrified at what he might have done with the revolver. America stayed in his spot near the back wall; it was clear at least to him what the man's going to do so while he could have tried to play hero it was a lost cause. In an instant it was over, the man was lying on the floor as a camera zoomed in on his lifeless body. It was a surreal moment that was able to turn his stomach but he thought it was over, only a front page picture and nothing more until that was, when the 5 o'clock news came on and then again at 6.

"Alfred, are you coming?"

America blinks turning to the man waiting at the door. "Yeah right behind you."

"Are you alright?"

The younger shrugs, "Just thinking really, ever wonder why some things end up on the news? Like does some shit really have to be seen or...well." America sighs thankful that while one can still be seen the other will never know the light of day again. "I don't know..."

"It's human curiosity."

"Guess so," America says turning off the lights. "I'm in the mood for a movie...want to join me?"

"Sure what movie?"

"The Network..."


	28. Broomsticks, FemRussia

In the dark of night I can still feel it, the mix of nerves and excitement as the wind wipes past my little plane. The loud rattling noise before I would suddenly cut the engine and letting her glide down towards the earth. If they listened carefully I'm sure they heard me, me on my broomstick coming to take out what they so carefully planned with one of my few bombs. They grew smart to my little plane but I grew smarter. I and my girls would fly circles around them. Oh the German's tried but one can't simply out smart a woman especially mother Russia herself.

Even now as I sit in the back watching Germany speak I can't help but smirk to myself. He still doesn't know it was me. Oh I caused him such frustration, his fast planes out maneuvered by a crop duster. By the end I did it simply to drive him mad. Mad he was, while my girls distracted his search lights I went in for the kill and before he knew it my bombs when off and I was gone again.

"Anya?"

"Hmm?" I ask with a warm hum. "Did you wish for something Germany?"

He looks me over before shaking his head. As he goes back to his speak I mutter something I know his ears will pick up on. "You never got your Iron Cross did you?" When his eyes turn back to me with a look of stunned confusion I just smile.

I never went faster than a hundred miles an hour, but then my broom stick didn't have to be fast to lay waste to his supplies. As I stand to leave he appears in front of me. "Even after all these years you still want to mock me?"

"You grounded my air force and came too close to Moscow. It's your own fault." What a shame, here I hoped I could continue to toy with him for years to come. "So I showed you what a Russian woman was made of." I give him a wink before walking past him and towards the door. I shouldn't but I can't help myself so before I close the door I turn back one last time and say. "Such a strong country to be taken out by a group of twenty year old women in cute boots."

It's only a small lie really, they weren't cute but they got the job done.


	29. The scarf, America

She was beautiful.

It wasn't an idea or an opinion of mine but a fact that spread across my brother's country like wildfire. Then again why wouldn't it? It's not every day a woman like that falls to her death and lands perfectly like someone sleeping peacefully. Then again it wasn't a bed but one of our cars she landed on with enough force to nearly crush the top of it leaving a mangled mess.

Alfred, I remember, looked away as every color drained from his face while tears started to pool at the corner of his eyes. Arthur on the other hand shook his head though like me leaned in closer, perhaps it was a morbid curiosity for the fallen angel. Francis would call it a romantic mystery then again my Papa was trying to be dramatic again. Not that he wasn't right, she jumped from the observation deck of the Empire state building.

86 floors.

Whatever pushed her to the brink I wonder if she regretted it during her swan dive? Maybe that's why she was clutching her pearls for dear life or perhaps it was so she didn't lose them. I doubt she'd know that in life she would have just been a pretty face that time would eventually erase like many other girls but in death. In death she'd be captured in pictures that would last as long as us.

The beautiful suicide, Time magazine called it.

They got something right, she was beautiful, what she left behind though...well the black and white photo doesn't show the whole picture. Really it never does in the end; she was number twelve in a list of 37. Odd that I know this but then Alfred doesn't like to think about it. Probably because he saw them trying to remove her body then watched as it fell apart and it scarred him more than he'll admit to say.

Meanwhile I was on my way to the hotel, in a different car, a white scarf I found in hand. I didn't think anyone would mind if I kept it...


	30. One, America

**A/N: Kitten here with a little message. I'm working on this story though slower since I'm running low with ideas for this series but I'll keep it going as long as I can.**

I lean on the cold wall watching as the cars and people go by. Lien wanted to stop for a moment to grab a coffee though I doubt she knows where we are. No one really does anymore, that's been lost to time and really it was never really part of the myth anyway. No all they remember is the number. 37 or to some 38. Actually though both were wrong. 49 was the real answer but then what is a witness anyway?

"Joe?" She asks placing the cup of steaming coffee in my hands. "You're thinking again."

I can't help but smirk as I inhale the rich scent. "You've known me long enough to know I do that from time to time." Taking a quick sip I point over to a spot across the street. "A woman was attacked right there."

Now if Lien was human, her eyes would have grown wide and probably her head would have wiped around but, thankfully my girl understands perfectly. "How long ago?"

"Early spring, 1964."

She nods leaning back on the wall next to me, shielding herself from the sun. "So out of all the women killed that year what made her so special?"

This time I shrug. "Aren't they all special?"

"Joe, don't be a smartass. I know there's a story coming." She gives me an eye roll, taking a sip of her own cup. "So."

"So," I jump away from the building slightly turning as I do to face it and her before pointing upward. "She was attacked as supposedly 37 people watched and did nothing."

A knowing sigh escapes her lips. "Supposedly huh? Did your papers run wild with yet another story?"

"Well," I look up at a corner window. "See this is the thing. Only two people actually saw what the hell was going on. They choose to do nothing. The rest either saw him hitting her or just heard a scream, sure the one that lived." I point to the spot. "About there called out for the dude to stop so I mean."

"No one called 115?"

"911 and nope cause it didn't exist. Now one did and she was told to mind her own business cause she thought it was a lover's spat and all she heard was just a scream anyway."

Taking another sip she moves away and joins me. "So still trying to find a hero?"

"There actually was and I'm not saying that cause it's me." She turns slightly with a look that clearly says she doesn't believe a word I just said. "She was stabbed, her lung was collapsed but she tried to make it to a friend. Problem was he was drunk, he was scared and well...he was human."

"Making excuses."

My nose flairs slightly as I start across the street. "Okay so at least, at least four men knew what the fuck was going on. She was fucking bleeding to death and the only person to come to her aid was this little woman that was barely five foot." Now I have her full attention as I point to another direction. "See everyone remembers the 37 but no one remembers that little house wife that ran out in the middle of the night not giving a shit if Kitty's attacker was still there. She held that girl and commanded that the police be called. And when they got there...her clothes were soaked in blood but fuck if she didn't try."

She doesn't say a word but stares at me, through me really before finally she takes another sip. "People remember what they want. You know this." With that she walks past me and around the corner.

When I catch up to her I see her staring intently at a doorway. "You sense it too..."

"Leave it to legend." She says taking a step away still fixated on the door. "Because they won't see it any other way." With that Lien pulls away from door's hold on her and walks down the street, head held high if only to shake the feeling I know she's feeling.

She's right after all but I'm still reminded of something as I walk past the cold door that leads to the spot where she took her last breath. "There are two kinds of evil people in this world." I say as I see out of the corner of my eye the door open slightly. "And you saw both kinds that night. 37,38,49, two, really honey all you needed was one."


	31. The pass, Russia

It was cold, bitter cold that day. The night it happened was even worse, so when Russia saw the rips in the small tents he was sure they didn't last long. He hated that he was right when the first two bodies were found. Both in nothing more than their underwear, huddled together for a last moment at warmth.

"At least they died together." He muttered to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets in a weak attempt to stay warm. With a sigh the nation watched his breath rise to the heavens. "How many are missing?"

"Seven more sir but I'm sure we'll find them soon."

"Soon?" Russia said shaking his head. "They've been out here for three weeks already." He scoffed, more annoyed at himself then the men with him. They were in the middle of the Tundra after all, high up on the side of a mountain. They didn't know anything was wrong for nearly a week after the group had last made camp and for that he'll always blame himself for. "But do we know what happened here?"

Another man joined him by the large tree line. "Not sure but by the way they cut themselves out of those tents say something scared them."

"Something yes..." Russia said looking out back towards where the tents were found remembering the villagers below talk about explosions earlier that month. To the nation it was already a cut and dry answer. They were bolted awake by whatever this explosion was, and in their panic ran out into the blizzard. What the explosion was he'd look into further but, for now that will be the story they stick with. "Perhaps it's better to find them and let this die."

"Sir?"

With a sigh Russia turned and walked back down to the pass. "Nine lost their lives. Thankfully one stayed behind but she'll still have to live with the what if." He walked past the remains of the tents back to the village below. "We might never know what happened so I say we find them as fast as we can and take them home." He looked back at the man, his eyes sharp. "Understood?"

After a second the man answers,"Completely."

"Good," Russia said as he turned away. While he knows he can't keep this from the rest of the world for a while he hopes in time it'll just become another legend.


	32. Stolen hope, Poland

Normally he won't let others in. Not here, but he's on a mission that needs to be addressed no matter what nightmares it might lead to. He's already spoken with Russia, in whispered talks in the hallways. Not to take the children but to swallow his pride and thank the taller man, for bringing some of his children home. Though really Poland's not sure if they are all his children, some for all he knows could be German, Hungarian or perhaps even Austrian but he still took them with open arms.

Now they were his children but, soon many will be leaving for new homes in the other's lands. "They've been through so much," he says taking the door knob looking back at the few others. "Don't be surprised by their eyes."

The others nod quietly as the door opens revealing the quite room filled with children of all ages. Some barely look up as others stare on, a look that will haunt them for days to come. Their eyes should be full of life, hope and joy but instead seem to stare into their souls.

Their joy is long gone, stolen early in life when their worlds were torn apart, to be replaced by death, disease and starvation. Their hope, dwindling with every passing day that they'll be reunited with their families. Most only remembering their mother's faces in dreams.

Slowly the nations are pulled out of their trances and break away to speak with them. Soon Matthew finds a young girl with chalk in hand. "Hello." He says warmly kneeling down to her, trying not to let his heart ache show. "What are you drawing?"

The young girl stares at him before going back to her black board filled with white lines. "Home," she says finally.

"Home?" He looks at the board in amazement as Poland appears next to him. "What kind of home is that?"

With a shrug Poland picks up a piece of chalk. "Not really sure. We think she grew up in a camp but, it's hard to say."

"Is she Polish?"

"Again I don't know." A tear forms in the corner of his eye as he continues to play with the chalk between his fingers. "All I know is her name is Tereszka." Finally he sits the chalk back down and pats the girl on the head. She barely acknowledges him as she goes back to her drawing. "But what I do know is...I want her to have a good life, to forget about what home once meant."

While Canada nods, he doesn't want to admit a harsh truth. Home might never change for her, the small girl with the thousand yard stare has seen much more than a child her age should ever have to see. It's her mind that's still back in that 'home' and only time will tell if it can ever break free. He only prays that what she's seen will never be repeated. That her home won't be lost to history.


	33. Pained love, France

What would lead to this? What kind of logic, no there is no logic only the feeling of self-preservation. Pride is the only thing that would lead to this. A family name, an idea of scandal that really wouldn't have lasted long. A year perhaps, two maybe if the gossipers had nothing else to talk about but now they have something to talk about for years to come.

Ignorance, blatant ignorance of human suffering at its basic level though some may say I'm just being dramatic again but, they weren't there. They didn't lift a woman that weighted less than a sack of flour, shivering the moment light touched her fragile skin. They didn't see the hopelessness in her lost eyes as she clung tightly to my neck, her long unkempt hair dragging the floor behind us as we left her family's home to never to return.

She was beautiful once. Once she was elegant, youthful and in love. In love though, with the wrong man and for twenty five years paid that price. Alone in that prison cell of an attic surrounded by rotting food, total darkness and a foul odor that sent me to my knees. Her sanity left her long ago, this I soon found out in the days to come.

So again I ask what kind of logic is this? To claim to love someone then to make them suffer so, even after the lover long since died. What was the point then? Perhaps it's something we'll never know.

All I know is that I was there when she died, just a few years later. She never recovered but at least she didn't have to die alone. Though I wonder what her life would have been like and I pray, my god do I pray that for all those years of darkness she's been welcomed home to be with the man she always loved to be with those that honestly did, once love her.

 **A/N: I wanted to do a story about Blanche Monnier for a while, she's also known in French as La Sequestree de Poitiers**


	34. Doll, Japan

Ghosts aren't real, she knows this yet staring at the small doll before her has Liechtenstein stumped. She's been to a few places in Japan's land though this place is new. "Mei?" She asks quietly turning to one of the girls beside her. "Is it really...?" She stops seeing Taiwan nod. "Witchcraft?"

"Not exactly." She answers, knowing the story all too well. She's heard it plenty of times from her brother that she can easily retell it. "The doll's name is Okiku. Like many dolls at the time she's named after her owner. She was bought in a little shop and given to little Okiku who was two."

While Liechtenstein looks on in wonder, Hungary creeps closer to the doll dressed in a colorful kimono. She wants to reach out and touch it and its long black hair but she hesitates. She's seen many kinds of dolls over the years yet, while many would age their hair at least the same length. "Why is it's hair so long?"

"I was getting to that." Mei smiles as she pulls her friend away from the box and the doll within. "The little one loved her Okiku but a year later she sadly died. Normally her doll would have been put in her coffin to keep her company but, well the family instead put it in the family alter instead." She shrugs though she refuses to look the doll in the eyes. The black eyes seem to watch the three as Mei continues. "Soon they noticed that her hair, which was at its shoulders had grown, even as they trimmed it, it would grow back."

"So, what makes it's hair grow?"

Behind Taiwan, a male voice answers. "We don't know but she'll stay here in her little box." They all turn as Japan appears with a small knowing smile. "I think it's about lunch time." He watches as the women walk out of the small room before turning back at the small doll. It seems to giggle as Japan lays a flower down on the alter. "Play nice Okiku and I'll see you later." With a small bow he leaves the room, he doesn't believe in the ghost stories anymore but he's sure of one thing. Love, love that a child had for a doll and the love of her family had for her.


	35. Preserved, Southern Italy

It could read like an alchemy recipe, one part glycerin, one part formalin saturated with both zinc sulfate and chloride, and one part of an alcohol solution saturated with salicylic acid. Romano knows it well but it's not a recipe to turn lead into gold but rather to preserve the dead.

Rather, to a lucky few and to one little girl that all but the world has forgotten about. When the world thinks catacombs they think of France and his long winding world below his Paris city not of the many resting in Italy. Though perhaps it's for the best, Romano thinks as he walks towards the burial site.

It doesn't contain as many bodies as France's does but it's not its size that draws people but the mummified bodies within. Most using basic techniques, but he's not here to see them.

No, he walks past a few tourists to a small glass case. Within it contains one of its last members and to Romano's it's smallest. Carefully he touches the glass, looking down at the face of a child that hasn't aged in decades. "Hello Rosalia," He says in a gentle tone. "What a lovely bow you have."

Her bow has aged, turning a light tan and if it wasn't for her own tan skin a passerby would think she was just a sleeping child. Really as Romano continues to look down, he swears she could still open her eyes at any moment with innocent eyes.

With a soft prayer the nation turns and walks out, but not before leaving a small bear at the base of her glass case. He's sure her soul is long gone, but he still holds a place in his heart for all the children buried here. Lives taken too quickly, snatched away by illness and tragedies but, their bodies will remain. Preserved for decades to come.


	36. Stuttering, America

**A/N: When I found this bit of history I was instantly reminded of my state stories. So this one will involve state OCs.**

He listens, eyes closed. There's little the nation misses, when the states speak, he listens. It doesn't mean he'll agree with what they say but he'll hear them out none the less. Most don't understand why he does this, eyes closed, head nodding every now again until they're finished. Then slowly he'll open his eyes, before speaking himself.

They've come to expect it, as strange as it appears to them but it's not until one day does one becomes curious enough to ask. "Why do you do that?"

The nation cocks his head, almost confused at the question. "Do what?"

"Listen like that." Her eyes shine as the young girl takes his hand. "Is it cause we're your states?"

America squeezes Hawaii's hand as they start to walk down the beach. "Not really. I'd do that for any kid." For a moment he looks out at the waves crashing. When did he start doing it?

It's to hear them clearly. He remembers that, so they can say whatever they wanted without fear. Not of him judging what they wanted but, by how they spoke. How they spoke, that's right. Not accents or dialects but their actual speech.

How they spoke or how little. How some would shuffle their feet nervously with eyes looking down while others would anxiously over think their words. But that wasn't his children, at least not his states. No, they were no one's children. Orphans, in a time when the world wouldn't bat an eye and then what would the harm had been?

Some would walk away with no issues but it was the others. The children that were damaged for the sake of science, for a thesis that in the end never wanted to see the light of day again. Because if the truth came out, what would it mean for those involved?

 _"_ _Use your will power."_

America watches the wave crash as the water touches his feet. "Because I want to hear what you have to say." He says. When she gets her answer she races along leaving him back at the beach to watch the waves.

He sits there in thought. Perhaps at the time there was good intentions and perhaps if not for a single reporter it would be nothing more than urban legend. The monster study.

 _"_ _Do anything to keep from stuttering."_

It takes him a moment before the nation notices the teen next to him. "Hey Buddy what's up?" When the boy doesn't answer, America offers a smile. "I got time."

With a nod New Hampshire starts to speak, slowly trying not to stumble over his words. Normally he'd look away, ashamed. Not speaking louder than a whisper but, knowing that his father's listening to every word puts him at ease.

 _"_ _Don't ever speak unless you can do it right."_

Once New Hampshire's done, America smiles. "I understand."

"Y-Yeah?"

"Loud and clear."


	37. Welcome home, America

Proud, head held high wearing the uniform that got me through the war. I survived a lot to get back so while the sins were high I wasn't as fazed as I should have been. That was 1945.

Then came Korea…1952.

Then again came war yet again, not like in the 40s, no twenty years had come and gone. Attitudes changed, ideals, sense of purpose, what was right and wrong in the eyes of my people.

Make love not war.

How I wish it was that simple to put down a rifle and pick up a flower instead. To show that in a world I helped create it was that easy to flip a switch.

Make love not war.

But, but how was it my fault? I didn't want to fight, to wander if I'd make it home again. I was tired, so very tired but I wouldn't know how tired until I came home. No one greeted me like before, no smiles, thankful I returned. Glares, that's what I received instead.

Make love not war.

I was called a killer, murder, fascist, rapist, if I wore metals I'm sure they would have called me a pig, a monster. Something to hate, to loathe and there. Right there, I learned what my people truly thought of me. Wearing my uniform among many of my people I was spat on. Then like that he was gone, my face a look of utter shock and shame was left standing in that crowded airport. What had I done? Nothing…. I went to war few agreed with, drafted no less and this was my thank you for coming back alive.

Make love not war.

Today if I listen carefully I can still hear it but I wonder if the true meaning has been lost along the way.

 **A/N: Like in the three mile Island story I used stories told to me about the time. While some believe this was nothing but an urban legend there are hundred of cases that beg to differ.**


End file.
